


the more that you say, the less i know

by favoritisms



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Break Up, Breathplay, Choking, Come Eating, Confrontations, Finger Sucking, M/M, Riding, Slut Shaming, Touch-Averse Hongjoong, Toxic Relationship, sorry for the fact that hohong are sad :(, sort of? it's complicated ok, these tags make this sound wilder than it actually is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:01:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28065885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/favoritisms/pseuds/favoritisms
Summary: Shame has become a familiar warmth; a red flag fluttering in the distance, just near enough to catch Yunho’s eye. In every conversation with Hongjoong he takes a step closer to get a better look.
Relationships: Jeong Yunho/Kim Hongjoong
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	the more that you say, the less i know

**Author's Note:**

> title from the song willow by taylor swift!  
> (originally titled “taylor swift said fuck you and fuck your feelings," which still tracks)
> 
> take note:  
> \- hongjoong uses they/them pronouns! yunho goes by he/him  
> \- i’m sorry this includes eden. he doesn’t appear at any point, though he is mentioned a number of times and his past with hongjoong affects hohong in the present so. oops.  
> \- this isn’t set in ateez’s canon… or whatever you call it. hongjoong’s working on their third studio album alongside eden (their mentor); the two have been around each other for quite some time. i don’t enjoy thinking about it. neither does yunho.
> 
> thank you taylor swift, for enabling me to perpetuate pain with the album evermore as my muse. thank you as well to c! when asking for my opinions on taylor’s album, you received a snippet of this instead. now here we are. 
> 
> special shoutout to g - finally! you know it’s been ages since i’ve wanted to try this out

“It’ll be easy to remember the time difference. Whatever hour it is for you, same for me, but backwards. Not that it matters, since we’ll both be too busy during work hours anyways, right?”

Hongjoong’s certainty scares Yunho. He hears the words, but can barely bring himself to answer them. And if he’s being honest with himself, what for? Hongjoong’s already decided for the both of them that they’d be too busy to even miss each other. 

Really, the whole conversation is an unavoidable exchange of formalities. This is far from Yunho’s idea of how talking with someone he’s been with for three years should go, but he figures it’s his own fault. He had the choice of loving someone, and here he is sitting on the couch in their living room. Another day of choosing in his lifetime.

“I’d miss you too much to not call,” Yunho mumbles, eyes cast down to a splotch of painfully bright purple, beckoning for his attention against the cream carpet. Probably from another one of Hongjoong’s projects he hasn’t been told about. 

A hot blush creeps up Yunho’s cheeks. He can’t tear his gaze off the paint ( _where did it come from?_ ), can’t bring himself to acknowledge his partner sitting by the foot of the couch, and it’s not because he’s shy. Shame has become a familiar warmth; a red flag fluttering in the distance, just near enough to catch Yunho’s eye. In every conversation with Hongjoong he takes a step closer to get a better look.

The worst part of their exchanges is how none of the words coming out of Yunho’s lips feel like his own. Every sentence has already been written, Hongjoong as the playwright. They control what is said, what information is given, and if Yunho improvises he is met with unease. Going off script can be anything from prying into their life beyond what he is told, to initiating a kiss at the wrong moment, and he finds himself boxed into a routine. He does nothing more than fulfill a role.

Good boy who wears his heart on his sleeve?

 _Check._

Constantly missing someone when they’re right in front of him?

 _Check._

Affectionate to a fault, to the point that he feels in the wrong?

_All boxes ticked._

What is he if not a dog, bird in mouth, waiting by the door for Hongjoong to come home? What happens when Hongjoong enters, and Yunho finds himself left by the door? What if he’s too polite to leave first? Loving is selfish. Yunho is selfish. But Hongjoong even more so.

A weight settling on the other end of the sofa pulls Yunho out of his thoughts, turning only to be met with Hongjoong’s stare, eyebrows furrowed. A blank silence and their bouncing leg are the only clues he’s given as to where the conversation has gone.

Hongjoong is quiet for a moment longer, which has Yunho nearly losing himself to another train of thought on whether he’s said something wrong. Oftentimes, even something as mundane as praising them about their passion for work turns them cold. Did he miss a cue? Did he forget a line? Wanting to call Hongjoong when they’re a world away should’ve been innocent enough.

“You didn’t hear what I just said, did you,” Hongjoong states so much as asks, eyes narrowing. Yunho doesn’t even have the chance to squirm under their scrutiny or attempt at a guess before they cut deeper, ready with some salt for a wound. “I’m leaving in two days, and you can’t even listen to what I say? Where’s your pretty little head at, hm? What’s gonna happen when I’m gone? You can’t even pay attention to me when we’re both here.”

No room for Yunho to interject, though he’s too considerate of Hongjoong’s impatience to do more than shuffle closer, arms extending to wrap them in an embrace. If he’s missed something they said, if they feel ignored, he can show them he cherishes their shared space before the distance widens. He can pull them closer. 

Hongjoong recoils as if avoiding the crash of a wave. Yunho is not a wave. Yunho is not a sea of battleships awaiting a war. Yunho is a boy who misses Hongjoong like a little kid. He isn’t supposed to be that either, detests the role he finds himself in. Wanting is not enough, not when Hongjoong doesn’t want either.

“Don’t touch me. I don’t want your attention if I have to beg for it,” Hongjoong whispers. Again, Hongjoong with the finality, sneer on his face, always calling the shots.

Before Yunho can hold himself back, a rebuttal claws its way out of his mouth. “Funny, I could say the same to you.”

Hongjoong is still on the offense, still closing in on themselves, putting up walls. Their body tenses, caught off guard by the protest.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing. I didn’t mean that.” Did Yunho not mean that? He’s not sure anymore. He respects Hongjoong’s boundaries, remembers that physical touch is a hot and cold scenario with them, but he thought they’d worked past the bait and switch behavior. For all their certainty, Yunho doesn’t even understand Hongjoong half of the time. So how is he meant to understand himself? 

“No. Say it again. I want to hear it.” Hongjoong clenches their hands on their knees. They are asking for a fight. Both of them are aware of this. Yunho rarely plays into this game, but now he allows himself to bend to their will once more.

“I said, I could say the same to you. I don’t want your attention if I have to beg for it. That’s what you want to hear? They’re your own words.” Yunho notices Hongjoong open their mouth, probably to intervene, but if their patience is wearing thin then so is his. “Do you want me to miss you?” 

Yunho has no clue if asking this is bravery or foolishness. Courage or cowardice. But if there’s anything Yunho has no problem with, it’s being honest (and conceding to nearly anything Hongjoong wants, though sometimes the two clash under a guise of love).

Hongjoong hesitates, eyes widening, bites at their thumbnail for a moment, and Yunho gives them the benefit of the doubt. Maybe the pause is one of confusion about the question, and hopefully not the answer. Maybe they weren’t expecting this.

How could they not, though? Is Yunho supposed to read their mind? He should have picked up on that by now, normally a fast learner, but reducing a relationship to a lesson adds insult to injury.

“Yes?” Why is Hongjoong responding with another question? Yunho nods, taking it as an answer all the same. 

“Do you want to miss me?” Yunho probes further. He braces himself, desperate enough for any response so long as it’s not another-

“Why do you keep asking me about what I feel?” Hongjoong says, slipping their palm onto Yunho’s, fingers interlocking in a perfect fit. "I love you."

Yunho doesn’t have the heart to pull away. 

This is all he ever wants; Hongjoong taking his hand in theirs, a reminder of how that gesture is reserved for him alone. He is Hongjoong’s, yet the warmth doesn’t feel much like his to take. 

Hongjoong’s affection is a rare prize, only gained when Yunho bends the rules. Right now it’s a distraction, an excuse from the narrative, a bluff, and Hongjoong places their bets on Yunho to want it enough to fall for it.

“You love work too. Is there a difference?” Yunho clasps their hands together tighter, but doesn’t take the bait just yet.

“What does that have to do with anything,” Hongjoong says, genuinely unmoored. Their confusion almost makes Yunho scoff.

He turns his head back to the carpet. “That stain, where did it come from?”

“Eden requested some mockup designs to get a feel for what kind of album cover I wanted. At first, digitally making it seemed more practical, but I’ve been meaning to try using a traditional painting method and scanning that for a project, so this seemed like the perfect opportunity. I searched online for hours and finally found a store selling the shade of paint that worked best, Proton Purple, but they weren’t selling it online. So I called up Eden to ask if he could come with-” 

Hongjoong pauses, noticing a slight grimace flash across Yunho’s face at another mention of the mentor. “Yunho. Look at me. You know I have to work with him.”

“And you love your work.” 

“It’s not like that anymore. Yunho, please just look at-”

“You cling so hard onto your work, and I barely even know what it’s about,” Yunho says, resigned to the thought that maybe he barely knows Hongjoong either. Not in the way he wants to. “You know you can at least ask me to buy paint with you, right?”

“Talking about and involving you in my work would bore you. You’re not-”

Yunho removes his hand from Hongjoong’s grasp, wiping at tears he didn’t realize were on his cheeks. He’s tired of being told what he is and isn’t, how he’ll react to what he is or isn’t told, just sitting there forced to tolerate Hongjoong’s view on reality. 

“Stop dictating how I’m supposed to feel! I’m not a producer. I’m well aware. I’m nothing like him. You’ve mentioned it enough times before.” Yunho shuts his eyes, holds back a sob, taking a second to breathe. He can’t choke up now. Not when the dam’s already been broken. Not when the floodworks are washing away what the two of them have built. “But that doesn’t mean talking about your work would bore me.”

“It will.” That’s his Hongjoong. Always so stubborn, even when their voice shakes.

“How do you know that? Tell me, how do you know it will bore me if you never bring it up?” Yunho leaves it at that for the meantime, giving Hongjoong the silence needed to mull over it, worried he might be pushing them well beyond their safe space. Yunho is supposed to be their safe space. 

“I talk about work. Often. You usually go quiet,” Hongjoong says, as if simply stating a fact.

“When I ask about your work, it’s always vague. _Fine. Alright._ Maybe longer. _I don’t wanna talk about it._ But when you do go into detail, it always involves him.” Hongjoong is armored with facts, and Yunho has some of his own.

“Well we-”

“Do you even talk about me?” Yunho doesn’t have much fight left in him, didn't have much to begin with. Loving is so selfish, and Yunho just wants to feel loved. 

When Hongjoong moves across the couch to leave soft, lingering kisses on Yunho’s wet cheek, he wonders if this is what love is. When they climb onto Yunho’s lap, straddling his thighs and cupping his face in their hands, eyes having nowhere to look but into Hongjoong’s own, he wonders if this is what love is. When they lean in, run a hand delicately through his hair, and whisper, “Want me to say your name, sweetheart?” hot breath right against his ear, Yunho shivers. This is an attempt at love, and he’ll take it for now.

“Every time you win an award. You never mention me,” Yunho whimpers as Hongjoong grinds their hips against his. “Never thank me.” He didn’t mean to sound so pathetic.

“Baby, you know I get nervous,” Hongjoong says into Yunho’s neck, biting down, sucking in and pressing their tongue against the mark they’ll leave behind.

“You always say so many names,” Yunho says softly, hands wrapping around Hongjoong’s small waist while they work on all his weak spots.

“You know it’s never on purpose.” Hongjoong pulls away, reassuring Yunho with a sly smile before moving in for another kiss. The younger bites down on Hongjoong’s lip, eliciting a whine against his mouth. “They start playing exit music. It’s loud. I panic.”

“You always say _his_ name first,” Yunho mutters, tightening his grip and grinding up against Hongjoong. It’s enough to get them moving, hands quick to unbuckle Yunho’s belt.

“Saving yours. Best for last.”

\---

With each thrust, Hongjoong moans Yunho’s name around his fingers. Louder each time, as if reciting a prayer.

“Is this good enough?” Hongjoong asks, muffled by two long fingers stuffed down their mouth. Their tongue laps at the digits for a moment before they move away.

“Would you prefer this onstage? Saying your name while I’m suffocating in a suit?” Hongjoong whines, cooing at Yunho like he’s their baby. Their big, needy baby.

“Or do you prefer hearing it like this?” Hongjoong murmurs into Yunho’s mouth, tugging harshly at his hair, pulling him closer. 

Yunho lets Hongjoong kiss him, desperate and wet and filthy. Revels in what he is given.

Suddenly, Hongjoong slams their hips down again, taking Yunho in completely. Their lips fall back into a litany of his name, before begging to choke on Yunho’s fingers. He has other ideas.

Wrapping a hand around their throat, Yunho loses himself in the way Hongjoong tightens on his cock the harder his fingers press in, the bruises he will leave a mere afterthought. 

They’ve always asked for this, Hongjoong’s requests for Yunho to treat them a little rougher becoming all too familiar after some years. He normally doesn’t, always too fond over his partner, doing his best to dodge the fact that they only crave pain for the worst of reasons. For once, though, Yunho isn’t deep enough in his affection to hold back. In the end, Hongjoong still manages to wreck his plans. He never expected it to happen this way.

Yunho feels the tremor of their throat as they gasp his name over and over, each noise punctuated by the younger fucking into him. Has Hongjoong always been this noisy? He can’t seem to recall. He shudders at the unfamiliarity, or maybe the way Hongjoong clenches around him. 

“Y-Yunho, please,” Hongjoong barely manages to say, “More. So close. Want to cum like this, my th-”

“Will you just shut the fuck up already? Needy cock slut,” Yunho cuts them off, hand squeezing around their throat just a bit tighter.

He despises the noises they keep making. Hates knowing they’re practiced, formulaic, echoes of a relationship Hongjoong shouldn’t have wanted, shouldn’t have been in. Hates himself for being weak enough to give Hongjoong what they desire. But his words and his hand on their neck drive them to the edge, with Yunho following not long after. 

Hongjoong gets off of Yunho, kneels in front of the couch, begins licking their own cum off of Yunho’s stomach while their limbs are still blissfully sore. Despite the ache around their neck and in their thighs, Hongjoong does a fantastic job of cleaning up the mess they made. 

Running a clean hand through Hongjoong’s hair absentmindedly, Yunho leans his head back against the sofa, lost in contemplation as their tongue laps at his cock.

Hongjoong made a good point earlier. What happens when they’re gone? What happens in a future without them in it? What would hurt less: the slow but steady pain blooming in the cracks between their conversations, or an everlasting silence in cutting them off? Though Yunho fears the answers to these, perhaps the need to find them tells him all there is to know.

As soon as Hongjoong finishes, Yunho makes up his mind.

“Let me take care of you,” he offers, immediately washed over with guilt at the sight of Hongjoong’s neck. 

“It’s fine,” Hongjoong whispers with a weak smile, voice still raspy from the events prior.

Yunho sighs, knowing this is the last time he’ll extend such an intimacy to Hongjoong.

He gets up, ignoring their protests, and grabs some towels to help them both clean up. Hongjoong eventually leaves to find some new clothes, granting Yunho enough time to dress himself and figure out how to voice his thoughts.

Met with the sight of Hongjoong entering the living room in his highlighter yellow pajama shirt, too large for their frame, Yunho’s heart aches. Loving Hongjoong has somehow always seemed easier than what he’s about to do. 

“Hey babe?” Hongjoong asks shyly, lips pouting as they walk to the kitchen to find some water. It pains Yunho to know that no matter how good he is, how good they were together, all that goodness has led him to this. 

“Hmm?”

Hongjoong is not a trophy to yearn for. He doesn’t want to have to cheat to win. 

“The reason I never told you anything. About my album, I mean…”

If Yunho lets this go on, he might change his mind. He can’t change his mind.

“Hongjoong.”

“Wait, I’m not done. I didn’t tell you because-”

He can’t let this go any further.

“I don’t think this is going to work out.”

Yunho keeps it simple, says it loud and clear, staring directly at Hongjoong so they’re free from the burden of asking twice. Hongjoong turns to look back, glass in hand, puzzled look on their face.

“My album? Sweetheart, Ed- we’re nearly done fixing it up with some final touches. The sound mixing-”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” Yunho keeps his gaze locked on Hongjoong. 

“Oh.”

**Author's Note:**

> this started out as a projection of my own feelings onto yunho about how everything happens so much <3 then it turned into... something
> 
> thank u for reading! it’s my first time writing anything like this :>


End file.
